


Black Sand

by dragonofeternal



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Drabble, Gen, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Reunion Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 22:34:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5223530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonofeternal/pseuds/dragonofeternal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After collapsing in the desert, consciousness is a tricky thing for Judal to keep hold of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black Sand

**Author's Note:**

> SetsuntaMew and I were discussing juhaku reunions, as we are often wont to do, and the topic of Hakuryuu hiding out in a desert and using Zagan's plants to nourish and water himself came up... Which lead to me thinking about Judal, and this fic being born.

Conciousness slips in and out of Judal's grasp, and whenever he catches it, it's rough and slick all at once. The ceiling spins above his head, and his parched lips crack apart to croak a single word: "Hakuryuu..."

It should be something like Water, or Help, he realizes, but those sorts of words have never done him much good in the past. He doesn't need any of them either, as long as he finds Hakuryuu. He has to find Hakuryuu.

The first time, he loses his grip after just that, plummeting back into darkness that envelops him like a wave, like sand, crushing and smothering all his senses until he is dumb and trapped in the darkness again. He's so tired of being in darkness.

The second time when the waves part, he manages to stay conscious long enough for a shadowed figure to appear. He cannot see the person's face- if they even have one at all. If they're even real. If they are not just a spectre of death come to leer over him. The figure gently tilts his head up and shushes him, lifting a small, shallow basin to his lips. Judal's drank enough suspicious liquids from faceless men to know that you can't really say no, so it's a relief when it just turns out to be water. It burns his throat on the way down, greedily sucked up by the harsh thirst of his body. He coughs, and he tries to drink more, but the darkness is swallowing him up again, filling his lungs and eyes with sand.

The third time, he is awakened not by his own grip on reality but by the gentle touch of the figure. Understanding comes to him in pieces- first that his hair is being stroked, then that his head is elevated on something only moderately softer than the ground, finally that his gnawing, terrible hunger has abated some. His eyes roll open in a grotesque fashion, and he stares straight up into the figures mismatched eyes. Everything is slow. He recognizes those eyes, and he sees light and recognition flash in them as well, but his tongue is a rolling, lazy slab of meat in his mouth. 

The figure- the man, he realizes- softly whispers his name: "Judal?" 

It's as though he's afraid the sound of his voice will open the floodgates and drown Judal in blackness once more. Judal smiles, and in spite of his mush-mouth tongue he laughs. He sounds drunk, and he looks even more drunk when he reaches a clumsy, heavy arm up to touch the man's face. His bracelets clank together, and it's like a hammer crashing on Judal's skull. 

"Hakuryuu."

Hakuryuu's face screws up, scrunched together with so many emotions there's barely room for them all. "Judal, I thought you were dead. How are you here? How is this possible? Where on earth did you come from?" Each of those words is another knock on the door holding back unconciousness. Hakuryuu drifts furher away with every syllable, and Judal watches his own arm fall limp as Hakuryuu tears up. "Please just stay with me a little longer, I need to talk to you..."

When he finally wakes up again, he's aware of much pettier things. His clothes smell bad. His spear is missing. Judal picks tiny plants from his arms and hisses when he realizes their roots run to his veins. They leave tiny, oozing pin pricks when he frees them, and it's with a sort of grotesque sense of satisfaction that he roots out every single one. Hakuryuu sleeps not far from him, hunched up in pilfered books and scrolls with Zagan's spear tucked beneath an arm like a child's teddy bear. It's almost cute.

Judal stretches his legs and walks out of their shallow cave into the murky desert twilight. The world is quiet save for the soft sound of Hakuryuu's breathing. He's home.


End file.
